Painless Torture
by Nyxelestia
Summary: A clash with a new species leaves Tom reliving his worst memories every 8 hours, and being inflicted with those wounds again. With the worst moments of his life on public display, and being tortured every 8 hours, how long can he last before he snaps?
1. Escape To Hell

**_Escape To Hell_**

**A/N:**** Welcome to my new story! If you came here from my story "Crossing The Line", this is about...well, you've read the summary, right? Anyway, this story has a similar amount and style of drama, but a lot more angst.  
**

Most technical knowledge comes from Memory Alpha (the Star Trek Wiki), and the rest from my own imagination and vague knowledge of bio/quantum mechanics.

**This fic is after episode 'Alice', but it doesn't take the episodes after that into consideration.**

* * *

Tom blinked blearily when a clang rang out near-by, before shutting his eyes tight. God, his head hurt…

"Tom?"

The pilot looked around, realizing that he was lying down, limiting his view.

"Commander?" he asked, slightly slurred even to his own ears.

"Do you know where you are?" Chakotay asked.

They were in a cell quite like Voyager's brig, judged by looking…wait, no – they weren't on Voyager…

"The Chinaii Interrogation Base on the planet I'tek…right?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

He looked to his right, where the voice came from.

"Not much, Captain," Tom managed out, his voice sounding dry. Great, first his head hurt, now his throat was impossibly parched. What next?

"Then what do you remember?" Tom leaned his head back to glance at Harry, who had spoken, before looking back at the Captain and Commander.

"When they took me away," Tom said, almost cringing at how weak his voice was, as well. "They took me some place…looked like a V'diian operating room. They strapped me down to a table…they injected me with something, using a hypodermic needle…after that…I vaguely remembered…"

"Remembered what?" The captain asked.

"A nightmare…like a childhood nightmare…being chased…" _Being attacked,_ he added in his head grimly. "I remembered feeling some pain…" _Or a lot of pain._ "Then I think I remember being dragged back here…but halfway here, I blacked out…how long ago was I brought back?"

"You were brought back here about six hours ago."

"_What?!_"

Tom tried to sit up, but immediately groaned and fell back against the bench he was on, his abdomen waging war on his pain synapses.

"Don't try getting up again," Janeway said. "At least not as fast. You still have a few bruises on your face…I don't know how the rest of you is."

Tom nodded, before sitting up gently this time, with Harry's help. Not quite caring about the other's present, Tom unbuttoned the lower half of his uniform's torso, and pushed up the undershirt.

Everyone winced at the sight. Most of his abdomen seemed to be one giant patch of black and blue, and there were a few gashes.

Tom, however, was wincing for a different reason.

His nightmare…had been a rather horrific memory from his childhood, when he'd been attacked…and these wounds were identical.

But he wasn't going to mention that just yet.

"You should lie down," The captain said immediately as Tom resealed his uniform. He pressed his hand against his leg, and pulled it away with blood all over it.

"Whatever happened, it must've been brutal," Harry said, looking at the blood.

"Nothing I haven't been through, before."

"I can imagine," Chakotay muttered under his breath.

"We have to figure out a way out of this place," Tom said. "Who knows which of you is next-"

"We're already taking care of that," the captain said, pushing down on Tom's shoulder to make him lie down again. "You need to rest."

He shook his head.

"I've made it through worse, captain. I want to help."

She sighed.

"I don't have time to argue. At least take it easy."

She pointed to a corner of the 'door', or the edge of the forcefield, while Tom pushed himself back up. "Harry's figured out a weak spot, and when he tried to attack one of the guards to keep them from taking you, he managed to snag…well, something."

"It's like a screwdriver," Harry said. "Except instead of using photonic rays to move microscopic metals like normal, it uses polaric sonar instead."

"Sonic screwdriver," Tom mumbled. "Just like Doctor Who."

"Doctor what?" Chakotay asked.

"20th century TV show…never mind. How's that going to help?"

"The weak spot is directly connected to the rest of the projectors," Harry said. "But not all of the others are interconnected with each other. If we can knock out this one and break the chain, more than half of that forcefield will disappear without setting off alarms."

Tom nodded.

"When we get out…I think there's a communications dock down these halls. If you go…left, I think, there's a doorway surrounded by red. It opens into either a communications bay or an engineering dock. I also think that's where they took our comm badges. Helpful, either way."

"I guess we now have an official plan," Harry said, already working on the polaric sonar thing again.

"Obviously," Janeway said. "There's not much to do right now. Rest – you'll need it later."

Tom relented, leaning his head back and pulling his knees up to minimize the pain. Years of practice of minimizing pain was starting to pay off, these days.

* * *

_BANG_

_SIZZ-clink_

Tom's eyes snapped open in alarm, just before Janeway was about to shake him awake.

"Can you walk with that leg?" she asked. Tom nodded. If he couldn't walk…well, he'd make himself walk, anyway.

Tom managed to push himself up, expertly suppressing the scream he wanted to let out at the pain. He started trying to walk, but didn't complain when Harry wrapped an arm around Tom's waist, and slung one of Tom's arms over his shoulders.

"Thanks," Tom muttered.

"No problem," Harry said. "Left, red door, right?"

"Y-yeah," Tom said, internally cursing himself. He just _did not_ stutter!

They still managed to run, Tom's leg throbbing, and abs screaming. They were lucky enough that the only guards they had to deal with were the ones that had been guarding the cell.

"This one it?" Harry asked. Tom wanted to say something…but couldn't…gasping, he nodded.

Chakotay ran in ahead…but two guards met him when he did. But they obviously hadn't been expecting them, and the commander and captain managed to pull their guns away and shoot them.

But alarms started blaring almost immediately.

"They must've set something off," Chakotay said. "I see the badges."

Tom suddenly squeezed his eyes shut as Harry had to jerk him to get him through the door.

"They're locked in the containment field."

"Kim, I'll take over Paris – help Chakotay…"

Tom's eyes were still shut in pain, but he felt himself move from being held up by one person, to another.

"Tom?"

He forced himself to snap his eyes open.

"I'm fine, captain."

"I'm sure you are," she said sarcastically.

"Well, it doesn't matter, anyway…" he said. "I'll be fine-"

"Got them!" Harry said, before pressing down on them.

"Kim to Voyager – four to beam up."

Tom shut his eyes, again – god, his head was killing him.

"I'm afraid we are unable to get a lock on you," Tuvok's voice came through.

"Use B'Elanna's new mineral scan and get a lock on our skeletal structures."

He took measured breaths…his entire body hurt…and his head was worse than ever…it can't be normal…whatever they did, it had to be it…

"It is faint, but we have you locked," Tuvok said.

"Tom?" Harry asked. This time, Tom couldn't even respond…

_God, kill me, it hurts…_

"Beam us directly to sickbay," Janeway said.

"ARGH!" Tom screamed as he felt himself being teleported.

It was ten seconds of utter agony, and it didn't stop, but only lessened, when he fell into sickbay.

He gasped in pain.

"What happened?" he heard the Doctor ask.

"We don't know," Janeway said. "Just heal him for now."

Tom tried to hang on. But he felt a hypospray against his neck, and then all he knew was darkness.

* * *

**A/N: Please review! Oh, and check out my story "Crossing The Line" - a Voyager fic. If any of you read Harry Potter or Psych fics, I write plenty in those fandoms, as well.**

**Thanks for reading!**


	2. I Found Hell

**_Chapter 2 I Found Hell_**

**A/N:**** And here comes my infamous TV pretty boy whump, even if it's all filler because I was so writer-blocked when I wrote this, I couldn't come up with anything better.**

**Anyway, this chapter's really, really, **_**really**_** crappy. But Damnit, I couldn't get it any better. So please, bear with me while I try and make chapter three less eye-bleeding to read (and I suggest you have a mop on hand for this one).**

* * *

"Ensign? Ensign Paris, are you awake?"

Tom slowly blinked, before the world came into focus…including the doctor standing over him.

"Can you hear me?" The doctor said.

"Unfortunately, yes," Tom mumbled. Goddamnit, his voice was still weak.

Doc just rolled his eyes. "Good to know your charming personality is still intact after all."

"What…what happened?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" the Doc asked.

I seem to be getting asked that a lot, lately…

"Agony," Tom said. He tried sitting up, but the doctor pushed him back down.

"Rest," the doctor said. "After you were brought in, you passed out when I gave you some morphine. You were…what's the phrase? 'Banged up pretty badly', I believe."

"I know," Tom said, trying to make his voice sound steady. "I felt it. What injuries?"

"Severe abdominal bleeding, internal and external. Three-centimeter deep gash on your leg, severe concussion to boot…"

"What are you leaving out, doc?" Tom asked, this time sitting up more slowly, and letting the Doc use a pillow to prop him up.

"Two things, Mr. Paris," Doc said. "One…well, I've discovered something in your neural pathways…the Chinaii implanted _something_ in your brain, but for the holographic life of me, I can't find out what."

"And two?" Tom asked. What else could they have possibly done to him?

The doctor stopped the medical scan and gave Tom a look.

"Mr. Paris…Tom…'two' would consist of what _you_ aren't telling _me_."

"…ya lost me, there, Doc," Tom said.

"I have discovered nearly innumerable wounds from your ordeal on I'tek…but I also found several much older wounds…half healed…varying ages…from _before_ this ordeal."

_Shit,_ Tom thought. He was so hoping Doc would think it was just from the attack, knowing he was going to be sent to sickbay…but that must've been pushing it. _I don't need this all over again…it's just like my first year, here…wait, I'm supposed to be talking._

"Well…I don't know what you're talking about. I admit that sometimes, when I get stressed, I spend extra time in the gym-"

"Do you mistake me for a fool?" The doctor cut in rather snappily. "Those wounds do not consist with accidents. They consist with _attacks_."

Tom shrugged.

"They have a boxing ring in the gym…"

"So can you give me a list of people you fought with, who will verify this?" Doc asked. "Along with an explanation as to why there aren't any defensive wounds, either…and as to why you haven't actually come to me to get yourself patched up, again?"

This time, Tom didn't even try to bother with an explanation.

"Mr. Paris…who's attacking you?"

"…I don't know."

The doctor sighed.

"I will alert Tuvok-"

"No!" Tom said. "This is why I didn't come here…I can't let these people win."

The doctor just gave him a look.

"You were attacked repeatedly, even if discreetly, during your first year here…but then, it made sense why. Starfleet _and_ Maquis all hated you. But now…"

"I just nearly killed B'Elanna, myself, and did some major damage to Voyager with Alice, doc, along with causing warp core breech a few days after which, injured six people and led to a crewman being unconscious for…well, he's still unconscious, see? That's when people tend to get pissed."

"But you were being controlled!"

"Most people don't know the details behind it. All they know is that my ship nearly killed B'Elanna, and that I nearly did some damage to Voyager with 'my' antics, along with pissing of the bridge crew. Most of them initially think I'm just manipulative when I 'get the bridge officers to forgive me'. All that snowballed together, and the rumor mill, when this is kept down, becomes a little hazy."

"Well, clarify them!" The doctor said.

"Not a chance, doc," Tom said. "Besides, who'd believe me?"

"I still say you should report this to Tuvok!" Doc cried out rather adamantly.

"No. He can't do anything. The investigation would get people to stop, yes…but I don't even know who attacked me…so when the investigation team turns up empty, the investigation has to stop, and the attacks start again…but harder…"

"Well, what am I supposed to do? Both as a doctor and as your friend, I can't just sit back and let you get repeatedly attacked, and not especially when I can do something about it-"

"That's just it, do…you can't…" Tom sighed, before shoving out a few pillows to lie down again, feeling exhaustion creep up over his already screwed over head. "Just…let it go."

The doctor sighed. "Well…get some rest."

Tom frowned.

"What time is it?"

"0300 hours."

"…how long have I been out?"

"About two days."

Tom closed his eyes and groaned.

"Then why am I so tired?"

"Because you're recovering from well over a month's worth of injuries," Doc muttered bitterly as he walked off.

Tom shook his head. He wasn't going to let the people attacking him win – that was for sure.

* * *

"_Miranda! Hide!" Tom hissed to his little sister._

"_But what's wrong with daddy?"_

"_I can't explain now – just go to your room, locked the door, and don't open it if Dad asks, or even mom – only me, got it?"_

"_What's wrong with them?"_

"_They…that stuff their drinking? It's called Whiskey. It makes you do thing you wouldn't normally do."_

"_Daddy hit you! He needs a time out!"_

"_Yeah, well, we can't give it to him," Tom hissed, still kneeling in front of his little sister. "Please, Mira, just go to your room, okay? I'll try to deal with them."_

_She briefly kissed his cheek, which was still red from his dad's backhand, before she ran off stealthily._

_He managed to keep the doors closed just until she disappeared down the hall, before Tom turned around to face his dad, who just burst through the door._

"_Where's your sister?" he growled, slurring, at Tom. "She can't just mouth off to me and get away with it!"_

"_Not now, dad," Tom said. "Please…you had too much to drink-"_

"Don't_ tell _me_ when I've had too much! You have no right-"_

"_I have every right!"_

_Tom saw that hit to his face coming almost before his dad's hand even rose._

That didn't make it any less painful-

* * *

"Argh!"

"Mr. Paris!"

With another scream, Tom snapped up, wincing and leaning back. God…what a nightmare…though what the hell was something from almost a quarter century ago doing back in his memories?

"Doc?" Tom asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"

Doc frowned.

"I…I don't know. But right now…your face…"

Tom let his fingers brush his face…and it stung…as if…

…as if his fingers were brushing a bruise that resulted from a backhand.

* * *

**A/N: O.O Ooh, what now? XD**

**Well...actually, crap, the next one's more filler, too. But at least it starts to explain things, and the plot basically unfolds, despite how crappy the plot is. Anyway, sorry for the long delay (I'll have to start a man-hunt for whoever thought finals would be a good idea), and please review, because I have nothing else to live for...except for trying to get that new computer (I can barely run MS Word, now...I literally have less than half a GB of space left on my computer...) XD**

Thanks for bearing with me, and I hope the eye-blood didn't ruin any upholstery!


	3. Nightmares Alive

_**Chapter 3 Nightmares Alive!**_

**A/N:**** Again, more filler, but sets things up rather nicely.  
**

* * *

"Mr. Paris?" Doc said, pulling out his dermal regenerator. "Do you know how you got this wound? I know you can't feel it as well with all the painkillers running through you-"

"Check my stomach," Tom said. Doc frowned.

"What?"

"Just do it," Tom said.

The doctor nodded and pushed up the top of Tom's medical gown…and his eyebrows shot up.

"Can you feel the bruises here?"

"So there is one?" Tom asked. Doc nodded, applying his dermal regenerator there.

"How did you know if you couldn't feel it?"

"This is going to sound strange-"

"-everything always does-"

"But these wounds are connected to my nightmares."

"Oh? How so?" Doc asked without looking up.

"Because…during one of my lapses of unconsciousness on I'tek, I had a nightmare. When I woke up, the wounds I had corresponded to what happened. Same thing here. I woke up earlier than before any serious damage…but yeah…it happened…"

"Before? Mr. Paris, it took an alarmingly long time _to_ wake you up. Two and a half minutes since you started thrashing!"

Tom swallowed and nodded, before suddenly wincing as a headache started to appear.

"Tom? What's wrong?"

"My head," he muttered, knowing it was pointless to try and hide it.

Doc frowned, before starting to run the tricorder over his head. The look of alarm passing over his face didn't help Tom's anxiety.

"Prognosis?" Tom asked.

"Mr. Paris…lay down, now…that implant I found, it's active…"

Tom cringed again as he lay down. "I can…feel it…" Oh, god, it hurt – and it was rapidly getting worse.

He bit his lip as the doctor started running the scans again. God, it a hurt…it was like someone set an Anti-Matter bomb off in his head – and his skull was the force field trying to contain it…

"Doc…it's getting worse…" Tom managed out.

"Mr. Paris…please, calm down…"

"You calm…down…" Tom gasped out, lurching his head back. _God, it hurts…_

The Doctor was looking at multiple screens, trying all sorts of things. But nothing worked, and Tom was unable to holding back the screams as he fell into darkness.

The awareness stopped.

The agony didn't.

* * *

Kathryn Janeway practically ran into Sickbay. In the middle of the Doctor's transmission, she heard Tom screaming in the background.

"Doctor, what's…" her voice dropped as his fading cries of agony washed over her ears. "God, Doctor, what's wrong with him?"

"I…don't know…" he said.

Janeway couldn't help but breath a sigh of relief when Tom passed out. But then she noticed the doctor looking even more troubled at a screen.

"Doctor?"

"K3 Indicator."

She frowned.

"Doesn't that tell levels of pain?"

"Yes…his is at over fifty-eight percent. That's…he's in agony. We just can't hear him."

The relief vanished again.

"At least it's not rising," the Doctor said dejectedly, rapidly working the controls. "That implant I mentioned…it's active, but I'm not sure what it's doing…"

Suddenly, the Doctor's expression changed.

"Doctor?"

"It's…it's tapping into his hippocampus…" the Doctor said.

"And that does what?" Janeway asked.

"Spatial navigation…and long term memory…" Suddenly, the doctor looked towards Tom. "Nightmares…"

"What?" Kathryn asked.

"He…he said he kept having nightmares. And his wounds would correspond to the wounds received in the nightmare…what if his nightmares…are actually his memories?"

"But then when do the physical wounds come in?"

"I…hold on…" the doctor said, looking at the screen, working his way through the mess of polynumeric subroutines. "It's integrated into his entire neural system. It's affecting his whole body. Inflicting his nightmares on him…"

She really could not even contain the shock, before composing herself. What the hell was going on?

"So…let me get this straight," Kathryn said. "The implant is making him have nightmares…and then taking the injuries from the nightmares and causing his neural system to actually inflict the injuries on him? And his nightmares are actually memories?"

"Yes," the Doctor said. "It's even picking the right memories…I just don't know how."

"The right memories?" she asked.

"Yes," Doctor said. "It picks out memories which are painful to Mr. Paris. I think it has to do with emotional connections to them…which can be detected by hormone counts in comparison to them."

She let out a sigh of remorse, now.

"I was the one who dragged him along-"

"Captain, please," Doc said. "Not down the path of guilt again. You'll sink into depression…and I have an order from your commander to inject you with anti-depressants, with your consent or not, if I think you need it."

An amused look managed to flash across her features. She didn't doubt that the doctor would actually do that, but it was nice to know Chakotay would order him to.

"Still…do you know how to deactivate it or get it out?"

"I'm…I'm afraid not," the doctor said. "It's too deeply integrated into his neural system, and the technology is so intricate, I don't even know how to switch it off or take it out without resulting in Mr. Paris becoming a virtual asparagus."

She continued to just stare at Tom.

"_Tuvok to the captain."_

"Go ahead, Tuvok," she said, continuing to just look at Tom.

"_The Chinaii are approaching. Their weapons are on standby, but charged. They are only eight-hundred kilometers away, but not advancing further."_

She finally smiled in relief.

"Maybe we can get some information on the implants for Paris," she said. "Get them out faster."

"_Shall I open a channel?"_

"Go ahead – I'm on my way."

With that, she headed out.


	4. The Bridge

**A/N:**** Sorry this took so long. It was rather hard to write (which is weird, for the chapter itself), so I skipped over it a bit, and ended up writing up 'til halfway through chapter seven. What does that mean? Well, this is a crappy chapter, and so's chapter 5, but six will hopefully be much better.**

* * *

Harry Kim looked up when Janeway walked through, immediately looking at the viewscreen intently, where a channel to the Chinaii ship was open.

"This is Captain Janeway of the Federation Starship _Voyager_. I know we didn't initially meet on good terms-"

"Where is the prisoner?" one of them gruffly asked.

Harry Kim fought the urge to wince. They reminded Harry of walking versions of some squid-whale hybrid. They were all rather tall, and had heads similar to that of a squid, but smaller, and with skin like a whale. Where a squids head would give way to several small tentacles, theirs gave way to two necks, each going to a different shoulder. They had six fingers on each hand, and had three legs each, triangular. The only reason why they didn't make Harry piss himself every time he saw them was that despite the lengthy size, their bodies were all rather scrawny and weak.

But it didn't help that their weapons were a lot more advanced than Voyager's.

"The one whom you implanted with some sort of neural inlay?" she asked.

"Yes," one said. His voice was gravely, and despite their species descending from a jungle living species, the voice sounded like it was coming from underwater.

"Actually, we were going to ask-"

"We want him back."

She looked…surprised.

"We already proved that we having nothing to do with your world's conflict-"

"But he has our technology within him. Our enemy, along with many others, reach out quite far in this system. Should _any_ of them capture your people with our technology, it will put our species at a _severe_ disadvantage."

"Then help us," the Captain said. "Its torturous capabilities are hurting my crewmember. Take it out, take it with you, and please help my crewmember. We have no wish to keep it."

Torturous capabilities? That could not mean anything good.

"That would be why we need him," the…thing…on the other ship said. Harry couldn't really use normal pronouns – apparently, this species had four genders. "We have never before needed to take it out or stop it. We need your crewmember to stay with us. To take it out, research a way to neutralize the inlay."

"How long would it take?" Janeway said.

"He will be staying with us for a long, long time."

"I'm afraid that's not an option, Captain…" she trailed off. "How should I address you?"

"Captain Ma'Aline Chiren will do just fine, Captain Janeway," Ma'Aline said. "And we do not have the option of simply letting you go."

She sighed.

"I feel right now might not be the best time to discuss this," she said. "Are you sure there is no way, or no data, on this technology, on how to reverse it?"

"We are sure. Otherwise, we would neutralize the inlay in your crewmember, along with our chance of any one of our enemies getting their hands on the technology."

Chakotay stood up.

"If I make a suggestion," he said. "I have been looking at the database you gave us access to before taking us prisoner. Your weapons are far more advanced than ours, yes. However, your medical field is far behind ours. Perhaps, if you could give us what data you have on the implant, our medical officer will be able to find a way to disable it. He can even give you the data he finds for your own future reference."

Ma'Aline paused.

"I will need to discuss this option with my superiors."

With that, the view screen went blank.

"I hope they decide to agree," Janeway said, sinking into her ship.

"Why?" Harry asked immediately, noting the tone in her voice.

"Because when I entered the sickbay, he was screaming."

Harry froze, staring in shock.

"Oh, god…" he said shakily. "How is he now?"

She didn't respond.

"Captain," Harry said. "Please…how is he?"

"He…he _was_ unconscious…"

"I sense a 'but' coming," Harry said.

"The K3 Indicator-"

"The what?"

"It…indicates how much physical pain a patient is in…and it was up to fifty-eight percent."

Chakotay's eyes widened.

"That…That's agony."

"Exactly," she said. "These Chinaii knew what they were doing."

"What's the implant _doing_ to him?" Harry asked, sitting in the chair hidden behind the console.

"It takes his worst memories, the ones most painful to him," the Captain said. "It takes the emotional pain, and inflicts it on him…and it takes the physical wounds and inflicts it on him, as well. His face had a bruise that wasn't there beforehand when I walked in, as well."

…_shit, Tom, what the hell did you get yourself into?_ Harry mentally asked his best friend, analyzing the signals on his screen, making sure no weapons were being charged. Rock and a hard place, for Harry. Knowing more about Tom's past than anyone on here, he had all the more reason to fear for his best friend.

A change in signal on the screen.

"They're hailing," Harry called out.

"That was quick," Janeway said. "Open the channel."

Harry did.

"I'm sorry, Captain," Ma'Aline said. "It is not possible for us to give you what knowledge we have. We must keep the security on what little knowledge we have as tight as possible. You _must_ give us your crewmember."

She looked at the Ma'Aline.

"If you can't give us the knowledge directly…can you have a medical officer of your own come aboard our ship to work with the doctor? Our database would have no information. And our doctor is a hologram – if it's absolutely necessary, anything he learns about your technology can be erased from his memory files. Please – my crewmember is in pain. We need all the help we can get for our common goal of disabling this system."

"That is not an option," Ma'Aline Chiren said. "Give him to us, or we will take him by force."

"We simply can't do that," Janeway said.

"Then force it is," Chiren said. "And for the record: I'm sorry it came to this."

With that, the channel went ominously blank.

…_Damnit._

* * *

**A/N:**** I'll be updating within the week, if my computer doesn't crash on me by then…**

…**okay, lost cause, but I'll try. Until then, please review, tell me what you liked, and tell me what I can work on, and tell me anything else you want to tell me, all to make the future chapters better. (Hopefully).**


	5. Sickbay

**A/N:**** Sorry I took so long. **

* * *

_Tom ran down the street, trying his best not to stumble as he did so. He turned, swerving into an alley, before turning into another back alley, slipping over a stair case and continuing on to hide behind a large geothermal generator, crouching down in the alcove of the metal._

_Rapid footsteps sped by where he was, and he breathed sigh of relief, before being hit by a wave of dizziness. How the hell could he be dizzy? He'd only had a few drinks. At least, he thought he only had a few. All though-_

_Suddenly, he pressed himself back into the metal alcove even more as the footsteps headed back. **Way** too many guys were pissed about this. Seriously…then again, he did suppose that he shouldn't have stolen Goodman's wallet. But Goodman owed him money, anyway! And Tom needed a drink – bad._

_He held his breath as they slowed down, so that they were just a few meters from the generator. But the alcove and the shadows kept him well hidden._

_"Where is that son of a bitch?!" Goodman called out._

_Maybe Tom shouldn't have punched this guy in the face, either. But the guy had him pinned against a wall. On the bright side, that did make Tom feel less guilt about stealing the wallet._

_He felt the world swirling in front of him, alcohol starting to take effect on him, keeping his hands silently braced against the generator, feeling the heat drawn up directly from Earth's core._

_He let himself swallow when they ran off again, crawling out immediately, but slowly, trying desperately to not get noticed-_

_"AH!"_

_He yelped in alarm when a pair of hands grabbed his shoulders. He was whipped around to be facing all four men, all pissed off at him._

_"Listen, Goodman," Tom said, panting. "Please, I'm really sorry about all. I'll give your wallet back, and I'll fix your nose. I know my way around a dermal and cranial regenerator. Please, just don't-oompf!"_

_Tom shut his eyes as that painful punch was delivered to his stomach._

_"That, Paris," Goodman said. "Is only the beginning. That'll teach you not to steal wallets."_

_"Please," Tom said. Damnit, he was trying to drink his problems away – it's just **not** supposed to add to it! "Please, don't hurt me – I'll do whatever else to make it up to you."_

_A sucker punch to the stomach shut Tom up, after the backhand to the face didn't work._

_"Shut your mouth. I'm not here for an eye for an eye. I'm here to make sure you don't do this again-"_

_"I won't!"_

_But after that, he couldn't speak, as more fists came flying towards him, too fast, too hard, and damn fucking painful to even consider._

_Tom, of course, tried to fight back. But he was drunk, and hadn't eaten in almost two days, making it impossible to get free of those damn strong arms holding him there, keeping him from even squirming out of the way._

_Eyes clenched shut, Tom tried to call on years of experience to shut out the pain, but it only half worked. He hunched over, but it became worse when someone punched his back._

_He was caught between hunching over and arching his back when he was suddenly dropped on the ground. About to try and get away, he found himself curling into a ball, instead, as kicks started coming in from every direction._

_WHAM_

_Tom tried to scramble up and groaned as the back of his knees were kicked, causing him to fall onto Goodman's knee, right into his stomach._

_Grabbing his hair to hold his head up, Goldman smirked at Tom's glare, heavily weakened by the blood on his face, the drunken haze, and dejected sheen that'd covered his eyes for months._

_WHAM_

_Head reeling from Goodman kneeing his nose, Tom winced and glared as Goodman jerked his face up again._

_"Oh, how the mighty have fallen…"_

_And with that, he shoved Tom back to the ground, no chance to escape as the barrage started all over again._

_WHAM_

_He actually rolled over as he tried to get away-_

_WHAM_

_He growled as he tried to get away, get between them, get out of here-_

_WHAM -Crack!_

_"AAARRGGH-"_

_Tom's scream of agony was cut off when his own empty wallet, tugged out of his pocket, was stuffed in his mouth, gagging him off and muffling him._

_Finally, he gave up trying to fight back or get away. He lay there helplessly as each hit brought more pain than he could handle-_

_WHAM_

* * *

Voyager's EMH was swearing not-so-under his simulated breath when the ship rocked again.

Janeway had alerted him to the Chinaii attempting to attack the ship and take Tom by force. Unfortunately, that made treating Tom all the more harder.

Which was bad, considering the circumstances. Tom was getting covered in bruises and cuts and scrapes of all sorts. Every time he managed to finally heal something serious, something else popped up. The broken ribs did nothing to help. Not only that, but he kept scanning the data received from the implant, and all of it was still too erratic to decode within reasonable time.

All in all, a horrible day.

Suddenly, the power went out. The minimal power to run the most basic of medical supplies wasn't helping…and, of course, right then was when Tom's vitals started to blare at him forebodingly.

"Doctor to the captain!"

_"Go ahead."_

"Can you re-route enough power to the sickbay to keep a section running?"

"_How's Tom?"_

"Horrible. Every time I finally finish treating one wound, another one appears."

A tired, but determined sigh came from her end.

_"I'll tell Kim to do so."_

With that, the link was severed, just as another jolt hit the ship.

The doctor sighed, looking in Tom's direction. Despite being a hologram, it really did hurt him to see one of his best friends hurt like this. But healing him right now would be a waste of time. Tom obviously didn't die then, and apart from the broken ribs and concussion, most of the wounds were superficial, so he'd have to take care of him when the memory cycle withered.

He turned back to the monitor, and just in time. The readings he got on the implant were still erratic, but he _did_ detect something entering the system.

"Computer," he called out. "Isolate foreign system in the inlay's data stream. Determine what it is!"

A moment. "Unable to comply."

"Why?"

"Data sequences too erratic for decoding. Foreign system heavily encrypted."

He growled, but eyes widened again as he looked at the viewscreen.

"Computer…is this a virus?"

A series of beeps as it looked into the matter.

"Yes."

"Is it entering the neural inlay?"

"Comfirmed."

He sighed.

"Sickbay to the bridge."

_"Go ahead, Doctor."_

"Captain, the Chinaii are uploading some sort of virus into the inlay!"

"_What?!"_

That was Kim's voice in the background, but the EMH kept talking to Janeway.

"I don't know what it's doing, and it's impervious to everything I try. All I know is that the virus is entering the inlay!"

_"Damnit. That's it – the evasive maneuvers aren't working. Tuvok, target their weapons array!"_

The Doctor disconnected the link, turning back to the view screen on his friend.

He sighed in immense relief when the jolting stopped several minutes later. Whatever the captain did, it worked.

"Doctor to Seven of Nine."

_"Yes, Doctor?"_

"Please come to sickbay. There's a virus in Tom's neural inlay, and I have no idea what it's doing or what's going on. Please come up to help me decipher it."

_"I will analyze the virus as soon as I complete my repairs in Engineering."_

"Thank you, Seven."

Another disconnection, and looking back, he realized that Tom's memory was ending, and that Tom himself would wake up sometime soon.

He grabbed his medical supplies, walking over.

Tom's eyes snapped open, but apparently wasn't in this reality.

"Mr. Paris?"

"AH!"

Tom jumped, startled, and fell off the biobed. Concerned, Doctor ran over.

"Mr. Paris, please hold still-"

"_Don't touch me!_"

Tom shoved the doctor away, pushing himself against the wall and away from the Doctor, wrapping his arms around himself protectively. "Don't touch me!" he repeated manically. "Get the hell away from me!"

Doctor frowned, stepping back.

"Mr. Paris…" he took a closer look. Tom's eyes were glazed over, both in pain and…something else. Not quite being here – as if just waking up from a bad nightmare…which he pretty much was. Along with that, Tom was apparently trying to protect himself. He was covered in bruises and blood, and…whimpering?

Thomas Eugene Paris did not whimper.

"Tom," the Doctor said. "It's me…Doc. Please…you're hurt…let me help…"

Another gasping breath, and Tom looked up.

"…Doc?"

"Yes, Tom…it's me…"

Suddenly, Tom's demeanor changed from protective to defensive. He jumped up from the spot he'd been crouching in as if it was suddenly several hundred Kelvins. He swayed, but Doctor caught him just before he fell flat on his face.

"Are you all right?" Doctor asked, gently sitting Tom down on the biobed.

"Yeah…ow…" he mumbled, looking down at himself through the blue medical pajamas, soaked with the sporadic blood spots. "This sucks."

The Doctor nodded. He could clearly see a deep-seated fear situated in Tom's eyes, but didn't mention it as he started to treat the wounds individually. It took a lot more effort, though, to ignore Tom's flinches every time the doctor made a sudden step towards him.

"Mr. Paris…what happened to result in these kinds of wounds?"

"Do I have to get into that?" Tom asked.

"I guess it's not medically relevant…but I'm asking out of concern. As a friend."

"Well, then, don't worry about it. It was a…fight…I got into a long time ago. Something tells me these memories are going to be a lot of fights."

The Doctor frowned. There was something off about the way he said 'fight', but he couldn't ponder that for now.

"Are they all as…harmful…as this one?"

Tom smiled.

"Don't worry, Doc. Obviously, I lived, and obviously, none of it is anything I haven't been through before. I'll be fine."

The Doctor seriously wanted to say something about that…but he wasn't sure how to voice his doubts. So he just went back to silently fixing his broken friend.

* * *

"Ensign Kim."

Harry's head snapped up at the captain's voice. "Do me a favor: go down to sickbay and find out how Tom's doing."

He allowed a small smile on his face at the captain telling him to go down there, knowing very well she could've just as easily commed the doctor to find out.

"Yes, ma'am."

Wrapping up a few loose ends at his station before turning it over to back-up, he got into the lift, and then pressed down on his comm. badge.

"Ensign Kim to Lieutenant Torres."

_"Harry?"_

"I'm heading down to sickbay to check on Tom. Have you seen him yet?"

_"I wish. I have to help with repairs. Although…hold on a second…"_

There was a moment of silence, before she came back on.

_"Vorik'll take care of looking over things in a while. I'll meet you by the sickbay."_

"Kim out."

The line went silent, as Harry left the lift when it reached his level, and headed towards sickbay.

* * *

**A/N:**** Thanks for remembering, and please remember to review!  
**


	6. Cycles

_**A/N:**_** I have no excuses. Sorry it took so long.**

"Doctor…it'll be easier just to let the moron go. He'll drive you insane, otherwise." He hated that she was right.

The Doctor rolled his eyes as B'Elanna and Harry stood in the sickbay, arms crossed, Tom in his medical pajamas, and pouting at the doctor.

This visit had gone from great to worst in about three lines flat.

"_Pweese?_" Tom whined in the most babyish voice possible, the one he _knew_ would drive the Doctor insane.

"Oh, fine!" he said.

Pumping his fist triumphantly with a hissed, "Yes!", Tom practically ran over to the replicator, calling for a new uniform. As soon as he conjured up a holographic divider to change behind, the Doctor turned to Harry and B'Elanna.

"Keep an eye out for him, especially for when these memory engrams might start. If he becomes disorientated or extremely dizzy, or anything like that, bring him up _immediately_."

"Got it, Doc," Harry said. B'Elanna just nodded her agreement, Tom popping up a moment later.

"C'mon, replicator rations are a wastin'! I've got tons stored up – so let the feast begin!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes as Tom practically ran out the sickbay doors, B'Elanna and Harry sharing an amused look as they followed Tom out.

Sighing in relief, the Doctor turned back to his console, only to have his comm. badge beep a moment later.

_"Seven of Nine to the Doctor."_

"Doctor here, Seven – go ahead."

_"I have a partial analysis of the 'virus' entered into Paris's inlay."_

He smiled. Ah, a beacon of hope, at last. "Bring it up!"

_"Captain Janeway and I will be reporting to Sickbay in five minutes."_

"See you then."

A disconnecting beep, and the doctor sighed as he looked down at the screen before him. It had been recording Tom's wounds during the engram. And it was obviously painful.

Cleaning up his tools from treating Tom, he was just putting the last of it away as the Sickbay doors slid open, and Janeway and Seven strode in.

"Seven, Captain," he greeted.

"Before Seven starts on her analysis," the captain said immediately. "Brief me on how the inlay even _works_? I wanted to hear it from you."

The Doctor nodded, turning back to his console, and opening up the blue prints for the inlay.

It looked like a metallic series of veins, really. There was one long, thicker, vertical 'wire', and quite possibly hundreds, maybe even thousands, of wires in varying sizes, branching out from it. Vaguely, it resembled the shape of a human body – arms, legs, head, torso, all of that. Two of the wires in the head area were also connected to some sort of small, spherical node, both of which also branched out to other wires.

"The inlay. These wires," the doctor said, pointing to the 'wires'. "Each control a small part of the body, and the part of the system within it – muscular, endocrine, skeletal, nervous, everything."

He flicked the schematics to the two nodes near the top. "There is a hippocampus on each side of a human brain – the center for long term memory. One of these nodes goes into one hippocampus on each side. This is where the memories are pulled from, as far as I can tell."

He zoomed in on the thickest, longest wire. "This part runs along the spine. It also deploying _something_, but I'm not entire sure what. It's not organic, viral, or bacterial, and I didn't have enough time to truly scan it. But I think it's a form of nanotechnology, namely because after the inlay, it went back inside the housing of the mainline."

"What do they do?" The captain asked, peering closely at the blueprints, Seven entering in some data on the console in the office.

"They are the ones that take care of doing the actual damage. The wires only make the systems, besides the nervous system, more responsive to what this nanotechnology does. The nanobots, I assume, slice through and break the bones, cause the bleeding for the bruises, rip up the organs, even causing bleeding in the brain. The wires simply match the pain to what Ensign Paris originally felt way back when, in the time of the memory, and trigger the appropriate hormonal reactions, neurotransmitters – in short, the appropriate _emotions_ to match the memory. The nanotechnology is, however, reabsorbed into the main link after the engram has ended, so I don't think they're unlimited. I do not yet know if they are produced inside the link."

Janeway winced a little, but nodded.

"So…" she turned to Seven, now walking out of the office. "This 'computer virus'?"

Seven nodded, holding up a PADD, transferring data to the main comm. station.

A series of complex programming sequences appeared on screen, all horribly confusing to the Doctor, but obviously making perfect sense to Seven, and a little bit of vague sense to the captain.

"It is a virus which was specifically made for the neural inlay," Seven said, with all her usual grace and charm. "Possibly originally intended for interrogation uses, if their initial purpose would match the initial reason for the virus. I believe it does."

"So…what does it do?" Janeway asked. "And how will…whatever it is…affect Tom?"

"I am not sure, yet," Seven said. "However, there are familiar subroutines within it – similar to that of a holoprogram."

"A hologram?" The Doctor asked, frowning.

"Not quite – but similar patterns," Seven said, tapping through a few more screens and sections to show them. "They are also connected to the visual cortex interaction system. Whatever the subroutines may be, Ensign Paris will be able to experience inside his neural functions. The activation sequences suggest that it is designed to coincide with his memory engrams."

"So…let me get this straight," Janeway said, reiterating what the Doctor had already figured out rather quickly. "This virus is actually program…that projects some sort of hologram into his _memories_ that he's experiencing with this inlay?"

"Yes," She said, standing back from the screen to let Janeway and the Doctor browse through it, clasping her hands behind her back like her usual self.

"What _is_ the holoprogram?" The Doctor asked, looking at the programming. "I can't make heads or tails of this."

"The Chinaii use a triadic matrix in their programming. It will take a while, but I can translate it into our quadratic systems," Seven said simply, that slight undertone of confidence heard only to the people who knew her well.

The Doctor nodded, being one of those people. "But this program, in the memory…does that mean Paris can see it?"

"Presumably, yes."

"I'll have to ask him to keep an eye out for it," The Doctor said. "Seven, do you know anything else about the inlay, or the viral program?"

"No, I do not. I will continue to analyze the viral programming, and the inlay itself. Is there anything else?"

"Yes," she said. "It is designed to work on a schedule."

"A schedule?" Janeway asked, with a frown.

"Yes. It is designed by the Chinaii to be adjustable, but it takes equipment that we do not have, so it is, for now, permanently set. The set system of cycles allows the Chinaii…convenience, to plan their interrogations. Unfortunately, the Chinaii days are shorter than ours, and the cycles match accordingly."

"What the hell does _that_ mean?" Janeway asked.

"There will be an engram every eight hours."

The Doctor's eyes widened, while Janeway sucked in a sharp breath and stared at the screen.

"This would have been a little less than twice a day for the Chinaii, but it is three times a day for us."

Looking at the programming, despite not being able to read it, the Doctor shook his head. "That's…tortured three times a _day_?"

They were silent for a moment, before Janeway said, "You know what this reminds of me?"

"What?" The Doctor asked, thinking of multiple things that could resemble Tom being tortured by his own mind…which, considering he's only known Tom for a few years, was incredibly worrying in and of itself.

"The Baneans," she said. "When Tom was on that relive-a-murder inlay ever fourteen hours."

"I assume this was before I joined Voyager?" Seven said.

"Yes," Janeway said. "It was in the first year we were in the Delta Quadrant. On the Banean homeworld, Tom was falsely convicted of murder, and by their judicial system, his punishment was to relive the murder, from the victim's perspective, every fourteen hours…and it was supposed to be for the rest of his life."

The Doctor swallowed. "This reminded me of Alice – she got, quite literally, into his head."

Janeway nodded. "Tom certainly seems to have a propensity for getting into these situations."

"He also has the same propensity of getting out of these aforementioned 'situations'."

There were no additionally accompanying words, considering it was Seven who'd just said them, but their optimistic intent was clear enough.

"Anything else?" Janeway asked, looking somewhat afraid to ask.

"As I am sure you are glad to hear, no. Do you need me here any longer?"

"No, Seven, thank you," the captain said. "Dismissed."

Seven left, and when she did, the Captain turned to the Doctor.

"How was Tom? Before, I mean – I know he's fine, right now."

"Oh?" He asked, looking at the little bits and pieces of programming he _could_ understand.

"I just saw him dragging Harry and B'Elanna to the Mess Hall, driving them insane with some chatter on a 21st century epic he was in the middle of reading. Harry Potter, I believe."

"Good," The Doctor said. "It's about time he invested his time in reading so true _literature_."

"You do remember that Harry Potter was intended for young children, right?" she asked, amused.

"That doesn't degrade it's literary value in the slightest."

She smiled as he said that, before her face fell. "But…how was he beforehand?"

The Doctor sighed. "Well…I'm not entirely sure. When he woke up out of the memory, he was…panicked. He was yelling at me not to touch him, and he actually…_whimpered_. Which just goes to show how much pain he must've been in, Tom not being the kind to let show his pain…then he snapped back and became defensive…"

"Why do I sense there's more?" the Captain asked as she walked over to the alcove Tom had been in.

"I asked him what the memory was, to cause all this. Not medically relevant, really, but just out of curiosity. First he dodged, then just said it was a fight. But…there was something off about the way he said it was a fight, and…"

"And what?" she asked, turning to look at him.

The Doctor brought up the detailed reports of Tom's injuries and crossed his arms, looking at them, and blew his lips with his virtual breath, his eyes inviting the captain to take a look.

"He said it was a fight. And he avoided my questions about the details, which is odd in itself. Whether he wins or loses, he doesn't mind bragging about fights. And, look at those wounds…there's nothing to suggest defensive wounds. It doesn't look so much like a fight as just taking a beating of some kind."

"Maybe that was it," she said. "Someone else got the drop on him, made him defenseless, and beat him to hell and back."

"Yes, but…then why _dodge_?"

"Embarrassment?" she offered, still looking over the report, wincing in sympathy. "I mean, he does pride himself on his fighting skills…"

The Doctor nodded rather doubtfully. "Still…I know he didn't give me the full details, but I just feel as if he left something out."

The captain took a deep breath and turned around to look at the Doctor. "This is Tom. He doesn't exactly have an ideal past, but he's smart enough to tell you anything you _need_ to know. Anything else…he still has the right to privacy."

The Doctor sighed and nodded, slowly. "We have to get this inlay out of him. His own worst memories? I don't know how long he can last from the wounds themselves. And I think that will be the least of his worries."

"How so?"

"Well…he's already endured quite a bit of psychological stress. And it shows, too. He's prone to nightmares, isn't he? And his coping methods are…well, to say the least, I'm not sure he'll survive from the _psychological_ stress, let alone the physical."

Janeway sighed, shutting her eyes and leaning her head back. "Maybe, but…this is Tom. He's got a knack for surviving through tough odds, don't you think? He can work his way through most any situation."

"Must be his great piloting skills," the Doctor said wryly.

She nodded, opening her eyes as her comm. beeped.

_"Chakotay to the Captain – Tuvok and I have completed a full status report on damages to the ship."_

"Is any of is critical?" she asked.

_"No. All the damage can be repaired in two days or less."_

"Oh, thank god…" she said.

_"Thank the pilot."_

"I'll be sure to do that," she said with a slight laugh. "Janeway out."

The Doctor smiled as she turned to him.

"So," she said. "I don't suppose I can book you for another massage after you analyze the inlay and virus…?"

"Consider it done. I'll alert you as soon as I finish and let you pick the time."

"It's a date," she said, before exiting the sickbay.

The Doctor looked down at the blueprints for the inlay.

Maybe he'd just pencil her in for three days from now, regardless of where he was in the analysis. Something told him it would be a long, long while before he'd be anywhere near finished…

* * *

Several hours later, Tom shifted off B'Elanna, covered in sweat and panting, landing beside her on the bed, laying there for a few moments.

"That…was…amazing…" Tom mumbled. "Where did you _learn_ that?"

"Same place I always get new moves," B'Elanna said, amused. "Gay porn programs."

Tom blinked, before looking at her. "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," B'Elanna said, apparently fighting off a laugh. "But it's not surprising. Who else can give the best hand-job than someone who's actually got a penis?"

Tom shook his head. "Well, so long as it's _you_ doing said moves, I won't complain."

She laughed again as she slowly propped herself up. "I'm going to go take a shower."

"Want some company?"

She rolled her eyes, but nodded, both of them on unsteady legs for a moment, before quickly walking yet again. Tom would happily admit his eyes were glued to the mirror when B'Elanna walked into the bathroom.

One very pleasant sonic shower and dressing up later, and they were both sitting around his table, eating gourmet sandwiches, as they chatted.

"…so, we finally figured it was a neutron screwdriver lodged into the propulsion relay."

"You're kidding, right?" Tom said, nearly coughing on his sandwich as he laughed.

"Nope."

"How'd it get there?"

"Well…I'm not exactly into gossiping, but…" she got a mischievous smile on her face. "Rumor is John and Josh are an item."

His eyebrows went up. "John and Josh? I didn't even know John was bi, or gay."

"But you knew about Josh?"

"Considering he once sent Harry a Valentine on said holiday, it was rather hard to miss."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well…" she paused. "Do you know them well?"

"Yeah," Tom said, taking another bite. "Reasonable friends."

"Really? I thought you guys got into a few fights when you first got on here. I know they're ex-Maquis."

Ton fought the urge to snort. Yeah, right – _fight_. Except a fight would imply he had a chance to fight back.

"Yeah, well, did _we_ start off on best terms? And yet, look at us now."

"I'll give you that…"

Tom watched her carefully out of the corner of his eye as they finished their sandwiches in silence.

He would've thought it comfortable, except that he could see her fidgeting and clearly wanting to say something.

"Okay, B'Elanna," he said, finally. "Spit it out – and I don't mean the sandwich."

She frowned. "What-"

"Whatever it is you're trying to say."

Now the engineer sighed. "I just…I want to ask how you are – _really_ are – after the inlay and all that, but I just thought…you don't really like being asked that at all."

"You're right," Tom said. "I'm fine."

She rolled her eyes, but just went back to eating.

"So, are the repairs getting along fine?" he said, before the silence could become stifling.

"Fairly," she said, looking somewhat relieved. "Most of the stuff is superficial, now. Just need more hands to get things done fast. I actually have to go down in about half an hour."

"We can go now – work until the shift…fix stuff in some quiet, reclusive little corner…"

"Would we actually get anything _done_ though?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, already standing, anyway.

"Oh, I think we can get a _lot_ done," Tom said, with a matching smirk, as he stood up, himself.

She rolled her eyes. "Let's go – and see how much willpower and self-discipline you actually have."

"Aw, B'Elanna, have a little faith in me…" Completed with a pout.

They both laghed.

And bizarrely enough for Tom, they ran into John and Josh even as they came down the corridor.

The men were walking side-by-side, and greeted them amiably as they passed Tom, but she said, anyway, "_See?_" after they were in the turbolift.

"See _what_?"

"They were very, very close to each other for just friends, they were practically holding hands. They probably were until they heard us."

"…I think you've been spending too much time with the gossips in your command."

She rolled her eyes, and Tom tried to match, but suddenly got a headache after he tried. Funny, he didn't remember drinking, yet he felt like it was a hangover headache. Fairly distinctive.

"Tom? You all right?"

"Yeah, fine," he said immediately. "Just a headache – nothing to worry about."

"You've got an alien neural inlay in your brain that's intent on torturing and a headache that just popped up out of nowhere you're telling me not to _worry_?"

Tom glared at her as the lift opened to Engineering, and she sighed. "Fine, fine, I _won't_ watch your back…"

He nodded, then frowned as his world tilted with it.

"Tom?"

Reminded him, oddly enough, of when he crashed a shuttle in training. God, that was horrible.

"Tom? Can you hear me?"

All the teasing and razz he took for it. Not to mention the injuries, himself and the co-pilot. Hurt like a bitch. Was stuck in sickbay for a week…

"Tom!"

Wait, why was he remembering that? He hated that memory. And why was B'Elanna hovering over him? Wasn't he taller than her?

"Tom, I'm taking you to sickbay."

He hated sickbay. He liked where he was just fine, thanks, whatever it was pressing into his back and cheek, nice and soft.

"Oh, god, Tom, I think another cycle is starting!"

Cycle? Cycle of what?

Oh.

Oh, _shit_.


End file.
